


Kowalski's

by Pangaea, Weconqueratdawn



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Awkward Flirting, Christmas, Credence Barebone Heals, Dating, Digital Art, First Meetings, Fluff, Food Porn, Found Family, Halloween, Illustrated, M/M, Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Not Canon Compliant - Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12441930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangaea/pseuds/Pangaea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weconqueratdawn/pseuds/Weconqueratdawn
Summary: Where Credence finds solace in baking and a washed-up Percy finds solace in Credence. A super self-indulgent pile of dating fluff (rating to go up considerably btw) with some food porn as a sweet bonus.A coffeeshop AU which began life as a Halloween prompt fill for #gradence trick or treat**new chapter**A second go at a first date takes Graves and Credence to Coney Island - in the middle of January?Art by Pangaea and Words by Weconqueratdawn





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the original prompt: Coffee Shop AU (maybe Credence working for Jacob? Percival healing and trying something a tad less stressful for a time?). Cutesy Halloween atmosphere. Golden leaves, oversized sweaters, carved pumpkins and all that jazz.
> 
> Panagaea's art inspired a ficlet, but more keeps happening :)

"Excuse me, sir?"

Percy nearly didn't notice. It wasn't that his book was particularly interesting; more that he'd fallen into a numb trance. It happened sometimes.

The boy stood stiffly, holding out a plate with a single cupcake. His eyes were fixed to a spot somewhere to the left of Percy's shoe.

"It's on the house," he said. "Free sample. It's a new recipe."

Percy looked at the cupcake. It seemed perfectly fine, but he didn't really want one. His tooth favoured the savoury, not the sweet, and he'd only just eaten.

But the boy... The boy looked like he was waiting for another blow to fall. Another one of life's victims; damaged goods, just like Percy. And it was just a cupcake.

He took the plate. "Thanks, kid," he said. "You having one?"

That startled him. He raised his gaze to Percy's at last; a little tremulous, and doubting.

"The shop's not busy," Percy said, pulling out the chair next to his. "I'm sure your boss won't mind?"

The last was addressed to the aproned man behind the counter; the overly-friendly sort. Exactly as Percy expected, he smiled and waved; a clear invitation for Credence to sit down and enjoy himself.

The boy sat just as stiffly as he'd stood. Percy had lost his gaze again - it was now focused somewhere on the table.

"What's your name?" Percy asked. "Can I buy you a coffee?"

The boy's face flickered with a smile; he shook his head. "You don't have to," he said. "And it's Credence."

"Credence," said Percy. "An interesting name. Found much to believe in, Credence?"

He'd expected a pat answer. Or maybe a lingering silence.

Instead, Credence said, "Yes. And no. In my experience, the things worth believing are the things which don't sound very impressive."

"Such as?"

Credence shrugged. "Kindness. Good friends. That sort of thing."

Percy stared; the kid was either very wise or very naive. It was impossible to tell which, but either he'd find refreshing. "You got some good friends?"

"Yeah," Credence said. "Recently."

"Well..." Percy took his knife and sliced the cupcake in two. He put half on his own plate, and slid the other towards Credence. "To friendship, then."

Credence looked down at the plate. He remained blank, entirely still, with the watchfulness of a wounded animal. Then he blinked, and proceeded to eat in complete silence.

Too late, Percy realised he was staring. But if Credence minded, he didn't show it. When he'd finished, he stood up.

"Thank you sir," he said, and scurried back behind the counter.

Percy nodded absently. He picked up his book again but, instead of words on the page, his eyes followed Credence's movements. He kept his back to the shop as much as he could, but every so often Percy caught him stealing a glance back at his table. When a fresh batch of pastries needed arranging on the counter, Percy took his chance.

His wallet was out and he was at the counter before Credence could find an excuse to turn away. His eyes were wide as Percy folded a twenty dollar bill and placed it in the tip jar.

"For the cupcake," Percy said. "And the company."

He held Credence's startled gaze; the boy flushed and Percy smiled. He'd been right.

"You here tomorrow?" Percy asked.

Credence nodded dumbly.

"Good," Percy said. "I could do with some good friends. Maybe you can help me out?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> er, so there's more... :)

The man returned the next day, just as he'd said he would.

Much too late, after he'd stepped through his own front door, after he'd showered and fixed himself something to eat, Credence realised he'd never asked his name.

He knew it, of course. He’d heard the man answer his phone curtly: “ _Percival Graves_ ”. But he couldn't let on that he knew until Mr Graves told him that himself.

Now he was here, sitting in his usual spot far from the window, and Credence didn’t know what to do.

He’d been joking, obviously, when he’d said he'd needed good friends. No, not joking, just… Just being nice, taking an interest in the poor shop boy with the nervous manner and badly-fitting clothes. People did this, Credence had noticed; threw him kindly and pitying smiles. And sometimes they acted like he was an idiot – they spoke too loudly, too slowly, and forced eye contact as if correcting a poorly-socialised child. 

Mr Graves hadn’t done that. Not yet, anyway. He’d barely seemed to notice Credence until he’d plucked up the courage to offer him a cupcake. And after that, well… It had been something to puzzle over in quiet moments.

All of his quiet moments, if he was going to be honest about it.

Credence tugged his sleeves down into his fists, and checked his pad was still in his pocket. Mr Graves looked up as he approached. 

“Morning, Credence,” he said, smiling at him over his book. “The usual please.”

Credence felt himself blush, and all because Mr Graves had remembered his name. It made him want to hang his head in shame.

“There’s-” Too quiet; he stopped and began again. “There’s some specials, if you’re interested? We’ve got some sourdough rye just baked and Mr Kowalski made rugelach fresh this morning.”

Mr Graves’s gaze grew more intent. Credence felt his blush spread further, hot across the back of his neck.

“What would you recommend?” Mr Graves replaced his bookmark, as crisp and new as the book. “Friend to friend?”

“Oh, uh…” Credence swallowed. “I don't know what kind of things you like. Apart from your usual, that is.”

Mr Graves’ eyes jumped to a spot beyond Credence's right shoulder, where the menu hung over the counter. A line appeared between his eyebrows, and he worried his bottom lip slightly. Credence realised he was staring and dragged his attention back to his order pad, clutched tight in his hands.

Mr Graves rubbed his chin. “You're right,” he said, even though Credence had not said anything which needed agreeing with. “I always have the same thing.”

He studied the menu again, and then picked up the folded one on his table and studied that too.

“What do you like, Credence?” he said, in a low smooth voice. His eyes, when he raised them, were very warm and bright and penetrating, and suddenly Credence couldn’t look anywhere else.

He almost dropped his pad. Something lurked underneath the question which he was a little afraid of, and more than just a little ashamed of being afraid of. He wound the edges of his sweater around his knuckles and forced his gaze downwards, away from Mr Graves’.

“The, er, pecan fudge pie is my favourite,” he said. “But everything is good. Really.”

There was a silence which went on so long that he risked a glance up again. Mr Graves looked quite different, much less intense, almost sheepish.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean- Well, yes, I did mean, but I’m not as good at reading signals as I used to be.”

Credence had no idea how to reply to this, but it didn’t matter as Mr Graves just went on talking. In fact, he seemed quite agitated, which made little sense to Credence as he was the one who’d fallen short of expectations; the one who didn’t know how to behave in situations such as these.

“Recently, you see, the ground under my feet turned out to be much less certain than I thought,” Mr Graves continued. “And it’s thrown everything into question. Especially myself.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “It was an honest mistake, I didn’t mean to impose. You seem like a sweet kid and I’ll just leave you alone to do your job.”

“No!” Credence said, before he could think about it. “I mean…”

He trailed off, and stood there stupidly until Mr Graves pulled out a chair for him.

“Sit,” Mr Graves said. “This is a conversation which requires sitting, I think. I promise not to pounce if you do.”

Credence laughed; he couldn’t help himself. But then Mr Graves smiled and looked so handsome it made everything worse. How was he supposed to explain?

“You didn’t make a mistake,” he said. “But you might make one anyway, with me. I’m- I’ve got some problems - and I’m working through them - but I don’t think I can be what you’re looking for.”

Mr Graves fell into a thoughtful silence, and Credence couldn’t blame him.

After Mr Graves had frowned deeply at the sugar dispenser for a touch too long, he stirred and said: “Don’t you think it’s a little early in our acquaintance for the ‘ _it’s not you it’s me_ ’ speech?”

Credence blinked in surprise, but Mr Graves carried on.

“I appreciate your honesty a great deal,” he said. “But, with respect, you have no idea what I’m looking for.”

Credence felt he should protest, or maybe just curl up in a corner and die, but he did neither. Mr Graves spoke with grim and weary determination, and it brought out a curiosity which overwhelmed anything else he might feel.

“To be fair, maybe neither do I,” sighed Mr Graves. “In fact, your statement could apply just as well to me. You’d probably be making a mistake with me, too - I doubt very much I’m what you’re looking for.”

Credence smiled a little. “But you don’t know what I’m looking for, either,” he hazarded.

Mr Graves gave him a long look, his expression regretful. “Someone with a lot less baggage, I imagine,” he said.

“Do you have problems, too?” asked Credence.

“Many, many problems,” said Mr Graves. “Too many.”

“Oh.” Credence couldn’t think what else to say. He wanted to ask about them; would’ve liked to have told Mr Graves that that made everything easier, because then things might be more equal between them. 

“I think we’d better stick to Plan A,” Mr Graves said. “Let’s be friends, and see how that works out. I'll rein in the flirtation, and you just- You just carry on being you.”

And really, that was so much more than Credence could have hoped for, even a day ago. He smiled, widely, probably far too much - but he didn’t care.

“What’s your name?” he blurted out. It sounded a trivial question after everything else they’d said. But still he didn’t care.

Mr Graves looked abashed again. “God, I didn’t even introduce myself,” he said, and briefly put his head in his hands. “It’s Percival Graves. But my friends call me Percy.”

Credence’s smile grew a bit wider and a bit shyer. “Nice to meet you, Percy.”

Percy offered his hand to Credence and shook his mock-solemnly. “It’s very nice to meet you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i wrote the first chapter (thinking it was a one-shot) i didn't know graves was going to introduce himself as percy, so i've gone back and changed it. in case you noticed and were wondering :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little content warning - the subject of self-harm makes a brief appearance in this chapter.
> 
> This fic is evolving merrily away (with plenty of input from Pangaea XD) and I will only be adding tags when I think they're relevant for the whole thing, so please keep do read the notes at the beginning for any warnings. I doubt very much there will be any surprises, bearing in mind Credence's canon background, but better safe than sorry.

Percy had cause to wonder about the boy - about _Credence_ , he corrected himself - a surprising amount over the passing days.

He wondered about many things; his age, his situation, what his confessed problems were. Did he work at the bakery to support himself through college or was he helping out family? Was he just extremely shy - socially anxious, even - or had he lived through something terrible? Finally, his wondering would alight on why Credence seemed so interested in him, stumble fatally, and then Percy would be forced to steer his thoughts away, toward more straightforward matters.

The reason for his sudden fixation on a kid half his age seemed obvious: there was precious little else to think about. Certainly nothing in the New York Times Best Seller list had managed to hold his attention. And spending almost half his week at Kowalski’s was not going to help.

He needed to widen his social circle again. He really should answer Seraphina’s calls. But he did neither, and carried on exactly the same as before.

The morning was cool but sunny, and the streets were cluttered with people smoking and gossiping outside their offices. Percy strode past them with the unconcern of a man in charge of his own destiny, even if that destiny was currently limited to reading in a bakery café. All the same, their air of busyness rankled and the steamed-up windows of Kowalski’s looked something like safety. 

The bell above the door jangled as he went in. At this early hour he had the pick of the tables, and his favourite was unoccupied. With the fogged windows and the soft quiet of the nearly-empty bakery, he could relax a little. He settled himself down; jacket off, reading glasses and book lined up beside the sugar.

Credence didn’t appear at the sound of the door but that was to be expected. The condensation meant the ovens were on - he would be assisting, and perhaps unable to immediately come to the counter. His conscientiousness was extreme; many times Percy had watched him fuss with the arrangement of cupcakes or wipe down already spotless tables. Though he’d not yet been able to pin down Credence’s reasons for working there, it was clear he was dearly attached to it.

Percy sat, and waited. After five minutes had passed he began to grow almost concerned. By now he should have a steaming hot cup of coffee and be looking forward to a few minutes of Credence’s conversation. But the other side of the counter remained empty.

He looked around; there were two other tables, and neither seemed perturbed by this. At one was a harried-looking young woman tapping fretfully at a laptop, some long-cold coffee at her side. The old man at the other he recognised as a regular; he was deep into his crossword puzzle and wouldn’t stir until it was finished. Occasionally, he solicited help from Credence but as he wasn’t stuck he either hadn’t noticed, or didn’t care, about his absence.

Another five minutes passed. Maybe more. Frowning, Percy got up and went to the counter. Behind it was a door to the back, standing half-open. Nothing of interest could be seen through it, just a patch of worn paint on the well-trodden floorboards. 

“Credence?” he called. “You there?”

The still silence continued for a very short time - during which it occurred to Percy that his impatience was possibly rather rude and only partly explicable by his sad lack of coffee - then hurrying feet could be heard and Credence came dashing out.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to wipe his hands clean of flour and tamp coffee into the portafilter all at the same time. “I didn’t hear the bell - I was concentrating on the dough.”

Percy hung back, aware he should halt this feverish activity with a few soothing words. But he was too struck by Credence’s appearance to do so. For, in his rush, he’d neglected to pull on his habitual baggy sweater, and without it’s shapeless folds the young man underneath was visible. Percy hadn’t fully appreciated before how little of him had been in view. Credence’s shirt was still too big but it was soft and thin; its collar gaped loosely and his shoulder blades protruded in elegant lines as he fired up the coffee machine. Percy stared at the short hair at the nape of his neck and, when Credence turned to speak to him, he stared at the scattering of hair on the pale V of his chest too.

Credence noticed, and immediately flushed. Oddly, so did Percy. 

“Would you like anything extra, or just your usual?” he asked, and began slicing open a sesame bagel.

His shirt-sleeves were rolled up, and his forearms lean and slender and - even through their coating of flour - covered in angry red lines. Especially along his wrists.

Both of them noticed this oversight at the same moment. Credence whirled round, under the pretext of collecting Percy’s coffee. When he turned back to the counter his sleeves had been pulled decidedly down. He went back to his task without looking up.

Percy cleared his throat. “I didn’t realise you bake too,” he said. 

Credence’s movements stalled; he glanced up at Percy, confused.

“You mentioned the dough,” Percy said. “I guess I assumed you only took orders and helped out a bit.”

Credence’s eyes narrowed briefly, perhaps suspicious of this obvious deflection. Then he said: “I did at first. But I like baking. It’s… rewarding.”

Percy smiled encouragingly. “It must be nice to make something. Something real which people can enjoy.”

Credence nodded, enthused, but soon remembered himself and looked at the counter again. “I’m only learning.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Percy persisted. “To learn?”

“It wasn’t at first,” said Credence. “Now I want to.” He went doggedly back to assembling Percy’s bagel. “I’ll bring this over in a moment,” he said, and Percy took the hint.

Back at his table, he watched Credence carefully. He moved with practiced ease over the griddle but his mind was clearly elsewhere, his attitude pensive. More than ever, Percy felt the great gap between them - one caused not just by age. There was the strange sadness which enveloped Credence like a cloud - maybe if Percy were in better shape himself he would know how to reach him. He was certain that from within its depths Credence looked desperately out, seeking escape. But though he gave signs of welcoming Percy’s company, he didn’t seem to know what to do once he had it. 

And there were the scars Credence hadn’t meant for him to see, too. However grateful he might be that Percy pretended not to notice, neither could avoid knowing that he had. Perhaps Credence would decide it would be much easier to avoid him instead.

When Credence brought over his order, he slipped away again before there was any chance to draw him into further conversation. Percy was disappointed, and indulged in a silent bout of _I told you so_. They were too different, and that was that. Credence would remain an enigma he’d never get the key to unlocking, and he needed to stop trying. A _good morning_ or _hello_ and an occasional smile would have to be satisfaction enough.

A flurry of activity interrupted these morose thoughts. Credence had vanished, presumably gone back to his dough, but reappeared with sudden decisiveness. His sweater had made a return as well.

He approached Percy’s table and placed upon it a bulging paper bag which smelled of fresh baked bread. 

“This is one of mine,” he said. “It’s for you, to take home.”

Percy regarded first the bag and then Credence. “Something real for me to enjoy?” he said.

“I hope you will,” Credence said. “Like I said, I’m still learning.”

Percy opened the bag - a fat golden loaf was nestled inside. “It smells amazing,” he said. “It looks amazing, too. Um, I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this generosity, but thank you - really.”

Credence shuffled a bit. “Just come back and tell me what you think of it. The feedback would be… good for me.”

Percy blinked a few times. Apparently Credence hadn’t decided to avoid him - quite the opposite.

“I will,” he said. “Don’t you worry about that. At all.” 


	4. Chapter 4

In the week after Thanksgiving the bakery became noticeably busier. As soon as December arrived, most afternoons Credence could hardly hear himself think. The café became a refuge for exhausted shoppers and excitable children. Instead of coffee, every other order was for hot chocolate. The storeroom shelves groaned with extra syrups and flavourings. Cream was whipped, nutmeg was grated, and anything which could be dusted with cinnamon, was.

Nor was it just the café. Holiday bakery orders began to roll in: gift baskets of Jacob’s famed pastries were popular, as were huge cakes and tortes for family parties. Bread, too, was in high demand. The ovens were on nearly all day every day; even Tina came in to help when she could.

Credence expected not to enjoy it - all the rush and chatter and there always being too much to be done - but, happily, he was wrong. He liked how everyone worked together, equally hard; he liked when Jacob or Queenie came out at busy times to serve alongside him; he liked that after closing they pulled the blinds down and ate together while the takings were counted.

When it was busy he forgot to be shy. Everyone was red-cheeked with cold and happy to find themselves in a warm friendly place, just like him.

Best of all were Queenie’s exclamations about not knowing how they’d managed on their own last year. Even the coffee machine, she said, responded better to him - she could never quite get the hang of it. She was also certain they rang up far fewer mistakes on the cash register, which saved so much time and money. Credence knew Queenie went out of her way to find these little praises, but knew equally well she meant every word.

That morning it was so busy Credence barely had time to wonder when Percy would come in. It was now usual for him to call by every day, even when he couldn’t stay for long. Queenie had noticed very quickly and enjoyed gently teasing Credence about his favourite customer. Credence couldn't really protest much: it was, after all, quite an accurate description.

By the time the door jangled and Credence saw a familiar dark head enter, it was almost lunch. Credence hid the involuntary smile which appeared whenever Percy did by checking the bag he’d put away behind the counter. Iced gingerbread cookies, all present and correct.

Busying himself with that was also better than watching for Percy's reaction, when he noticed the thing which he was - unavoidably - about to notice.

“I like it,” said Percy, before he even reached the counter. His usual table was taken. All the tables were taken, in fact.

Credence's response was a terrible jumble; a nod, a blush, a smile, a shake of his head. He wasn’t used to nice comments yet. And he only got his hair cut yesterday; cropped close to his head. The bowl cut was gone forever, and with it something else had left too. Bit by bit he was clearing spaces inside himself, and learning to slowly fill them only with what he chose.

“I like it,” Percy said again. “You look happier. Freer. And everyone can see your lovely face now.” He leant his elbows on the counter and leaned closer. “That's not flirting, by the way - that's just the God's honest truth.”

Despite feeling awkward, embarrassed even, Credence grinned. Underneath he was pleased; maybe much too pleased. Not that he thought his face was at all lovely. “Um,” he said. “I think that still counts as flirting.”

Percy shrugged extravagantly. “I said I’d rein it in, not stop completely. I’m not made of stone, you know.”

Credence had to laugh, and made to change the subject to something more manageable. When Percy spoke like this it fed a greed inside him, but more often than not he was left feeling confused and hopeless. He couldn’t tell how serious Percy was - and it wasn’t like he could ask if he meant it. And if he did - what then? 

“Are you staying?” he asked. “You might get a table if you wait, or I can bring out a stool and you can sit at the counter?”

Percy’s smile certainly seemed to be very genuine. “The counter sounds great.” Even though the crackle of imminent flirtation lingered in the air, no other comment followed. Credence had to wonder at his near-disappointment.

The stools were stacked in an odds-and-ends cupboard out the back. Jacob had tried out counter seating before Credence had started but it hadn’t worked out - the counter was best used for display, he’d said, not customers. However, Credence thought an exception could be made for Percy.

When he returned Percy was reading the chalkboard at the end of the counter. He took the stool from Credence and sat down.

“How’s the game going?” he asked, nodding at the board. “Your way?”

“Like I said before, I'm not going to tell you,” Credence said. “There's no prize, anyway. It's just a bit of fun.”

The board said _VOTE FOR YOUR FAVOURITE_ in excitable curly capitals. Underneath it were this week's two special drinks - invented by Queenie and himself - and how many had been sold of each.

Percy continued to study it while Credence prepped his bagel and started the coffee machine. “If I had to guess,” he said. “I'd choose the chocolate chai tea as yours. The peppermint white hot chocolate sounds more like Queenie.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, then,” smiled Credence. He slid Percy’s plain black coffee in front of him - no embellishments and not even any sugar. It was very difficult to imagine him having anything else - certainly not peppermint white hot chocolate.

Someone came up for take-out and rescued Percy from answering. They, too, studied the board. Percy leaned toward them and, with a glance at Credence, said, “I hear the chocolate chai is very good.”

Credence tried not to laugh or to look too pleased when he chalked up another order of chai on the board.

After that, their conversation was put on hold by several tables leaving in succession - lunch hour was nearly over - and the vacant seats being taken by new customers. When Credence was free again, Percy had finished eating. The time was now ripe, Credence thought, to present today’s little gift.

He’d made a few rules about this dangerous habit - absolutely no more than twice a week and only when he had something new to share. Today it was the iced gingerbread. Though he’d not made the gingerbread before it was the icing he really wanted Percy to see. He’d spent hours practicing until it was just right; stark and delicate as lace over the plain dark cookie.

Credence was just about to put them in front of Percy when Queenie popped hurriedly out into the café. She had on a blue plastic apron and there was a smudge of powdered sugar on her nose.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry-” she said, then paused when she noticed Percy and the bag of cookies. “Why, hello Percy! How about Credence’s gingerbread? I keep telling him he’s got a real talent for sugar work but he won’t believe me. But maybe he’ll listen to you?”

Credence felt himself flush deeply. He desperately wanted to say something, anything, to explain it was nothing really; it was definitely not important that Percy should like and enjoy them. But Queenie kept talking and he could only watch, wracked with a stupid kind of fearful misery, as Percy opened the bag and frowned to himself.

“Honey, I’m sorry, I can’t take you to Kraft-Mart on Thursday,” Queenie was saying. “We just got a big order of cupcakes for Friday and one of us is going to have to be here to help Jacob. You can still have your day off, though.”

“That’s okay,” Credence said, relieved to have a distraction from Percy’s thoughtful expression. “We can go another time.”

“What’s Kraft-Mart?” Percy said, suddenly joining in.

They both turned to him; his question seemed to have been directed at Queenie. In his hand was one of Credence’s cookies.

“It’s a big craft store, out-of-town,” she said. “We were planning a day out. It’s real good for baking supplies - Credence wants some sugar craft things to practice with.”

Percy frowned down at his cookie. “I’ll take you,” he said, decisively. Then he looked at Credence. “If you want, that is.”

Credence was so surprised he couldn’t speak. Even Queenie seemed taken aback.

Percy rubbed at his cheek; he’d not shaved and it made a scratching sound. “I mean, I’m sure it’ll better for you if you go with Queenie - she obviously knows about all that stuff. But if you just want to take a look then, well-” He shrugged. “I’m not busy and I’ve got a car.”

Queenie was almost quivering with delight next to Credence. He couldn’t look at her. If he had done he wouldn’t have been able to answer in quite such a steady voice.

“Thank you, I’d like that,” he said. 

Percy’s smile was relieved. Oddly enough, so was Credence’s. 

“Well then, that’s that settled,” Queenie said brightly, and hurrying back off into the depths of the bakery, conspicuously left them to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have one more holiday-themed chapter to post sometime next week! 
> 
> [Credence’s iced gingerbread](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_OtxsAzpd_5Y/TOo2cvGHv8I/AAAAAAAAAjk/MLhzbNmpCjY/s640/Mzesdszek-nagyok-1.jpg) :)


	5. Chapter 5

Credence was waiting outside on the steps when Percy pulled up. He looked half-frozen but was clasping a flask of something hot and steaming.

Percy popped the passenger door open. “I’m not late, am I?”

Credence gathered his bag and his flask and scrambled in. The door banged shut against the cold.

“No, not at all,” he said. “I prefer waiting outside, watching people go by. And our buzzer doesn’t work that well.”

So that was why, Percy thought. Worried he might miss Percy - needlessly so, as now, secreted carefully in Percy’s phone, were all ten precious digits of Credence’s number. Hopefully that meant he hadn’t spent the whole morning wondering who on earth took someone to Kraft-Mart for a first date, like Percy had. 

“I brought coffee,” Credence said. “And also doughnuts.”

Percy laughed. “You brought the bakery with you?” He opened the cup holder so Credence could set the flask down - it got stuck sometimes and needed a sharp tug.

“It’s cold,” Credence said. “And Queenie said traffic might be bad.”

“Traffic is always bad,” said Percy. “There’s no escaping it in this town - unless you want to leave at 3am.”

But the traffic wasn’t that bad, after all - and the coffee was very good indeed. Once they’d made it out of the city, it only took another forty-five minutes on the Interstate.

Credence was a very quiet passenger but not the sort which needed constant attention. He seemed perfectly happy to gaze out of the window while he ate his doughnut, and took excruciating care not to douse the car in sugar. The car definitely wasn’t worth the effort, thought Percy. But perhaps it was more than simple politeness - perhaps Credence either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care what a heap of shit he drove nowadays.

It was surprisingly comfortable, and by the time they arrived, found a parking spot, and crossed the enormous lot, it didn’t seem at all strange to be walking around a craft superstore together. In fact, it’s very unlikeliness in the eyes of others made it into a kind of shared adventure.

“That woman keeps staring at me,” said Percy. “I think she thinks we’re lost. Or up to something nefarious. Quick, look interested in these candles before she comes over and quizzes us about Martha Stewart.”

Credence smiled. “The baking section is all the way at the back,” he said. “Once we get there she can quiz us as much as she likes.”

After far too many aisles of holiday-themed crafts - the glitter and foil in red, green, and gold looked appallingly aggressive when encountered all together - signs of hope appeared. Rows and rows of huge pastel bowls and spatulas and moulds skimmed by until Credence found what he was looking for.

There the shelves were cluttered with tiny tools and he spent an age examining piping nozzles and cutters which all looked exactly the same to Percy. On the top shelf was a boxed decorating set - for $300, Percy noted with disbelief. Credence took it down, studied its contents critically, then replaced it.

Percy was conscious of a dull sense of regret - once upon a time, not that long ago, he could’ve whipped out his wallet and bought it for him without batting an eye. Even if Credence would never accept a gift like that, it was still nice to think he could have offered.

He stood uselessly by, waiting, and tried to convince himself that _technically_ he still could - even if it wasn’t a sensible thing to do in his current circumstances.

Credence hadn’t finished, though - the next aisle over was entirely stocked with food colouring pastes and gels. He lingered over these particularly, and took a long time choosing between a sky-blue and a turquoise. The turquoise won out, and after that he seemed ready to leave.

Percy dragged his thoughts from the meagre contents of Credence’s basket and his impotent desire to fill it to the brim, and instead made himself look forward to lunch. There weren’t many places nearby - certainly nowhere fancy - but at least taking Credence out would be something.

“Is there anything else you want to look at?” Percy asked, before they reached the checkout. “While we’re here, you might as well.” 

They were just passing through yet another holiday section - the aisles opened out suddenly into a mass of differently-themed Christmas trees. In fake-rustic buckets around them were the baubles, tinsel, and lights which went with each theme. 

Credence paused. “Maybe the decorations?” he said. He gravitated towards a sugary pastel-coloured one, and stared at it like it was forbidden fruit. “We never had any when I was growing up.”

Percy absorbed this quietly; of course he’d noticed the menorah in the bakery window but, even for Credence, this seemed a strangely guarded comment.

“I could get some fairy lights,” Credence said, mostly to himself. “For my room.”

“Well, why not?” Percy encouraged. “There’s no law against it, is there?”

Credence nodded rather seriously, and a packet of candy-coloured lights joined the other items in his basket. 

After Credence had paid, they trudged back across the lot to Percy’s car. There had been a light fall of snow - not enough to worry about but it was slippery underfoot.

Percy locked Credence’s purchases safely in the trunk. “There’s a place not far from here we could go to eat,” he said. “Haven’t been myself but the reviews were good. Want to try it?”

“That sounds nice,” said Credence. He had a way of glowing quietly with pleasure without actually smiling, and Percy felt his self-esteem buck up a notch.

The car was freezing inside; Percy hurried to get it started but the cold seemed to have got to the engine. It spluttered out, though that wasn’t unusual. When he tried again, the same thing happened. It was only after the third failed attempt that Percy felt uneasy.

By the sixth, he was beginning to get mad. By the tenth, he was outright angry. And by the twentieth, he gave up in utter rage.

He had climbed out and wrenched open the hood before he realised doing so would achieve precisely nothing. He didn’t know anything about engines - he’d never had to learn, not when he’d had a brand-new car every year and a goddamned driver as well.

“You fucking piece of shit,” he said, hopefully in the general direction of whatever it was which had gone wrong. Then he slammed the hood shut again, hard enough to make the whole car judder.

Through the dusting of snow on the windshield Credence’s face was discernibly pale and drawn. 

Percy turned his back, sat heavily on the hood, and took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be this angry if he’d been on his own. It was so unfair; why couldn’t he be allowed to keep up the pretence, just a little longer? 

He pulled out his phone: a tow truck it would have to be. The woman who answered his call was disconcertingly, if falsely, sympathetic. In the background the general hum of dozens, maybe hundreds, of similar calls could dimly be heard. Percy imagined a throng of helpless middle-aged men, many with impatient wives and children in the back seat. It did not improve his mood.

When he hung up, he remembered Credence was still behind him, waiting. Probably staring at his knees, hunched and tense, rather than watching Percy make a spectacle of himself. 

He stood, and went to open the passenger door. 

“We’d better find somewhere to wait,” he said. “Could be a couple of hours before someone can get here.” On the other side of the lot were a few smaller stores - among them, hopefully, a place to eat. “There’s a diner over there - come on, let’s go.”

Once the car was locked he strode off toward it, leaving Credence to follow. His quiet glow of pleasure had vanished, and just then Percy didn’t think he could stand the reminder of its loss.

But, if anything, he felt worse over lunch. The food was fine but there were none of the other things he’d pictured - no cosy booth, no gentle flirtation, no shared smiles or laughter. Their table was stuck in the middle of the room, and every two minutes a server swept past them with bowls of curly fries or trays rattling with drinks. Credence focused entirely on his plate and didn’t attempt conversation. Percy couldn’t dredge up anything to say, either. 

It seemed he’d done all the damage it was possible to do already - losing his temper and making an ass of himself. Then he’d grimly ordered lunch like spending time with Credence was something to be endured. No wonder he was silent and withdrawn. He’d had a better time serving Percy coffee. 

That was the thought which did it - the one which managed to break through Percy’s admittedly ridiculous self-pity.

He threw his paper napkin onto his half-full plate and put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and looked at Credence. “The car breaking down wasn’t great, but everything else was totally unnecessary. I’m sorry for being an asshole and spoiling your day.”

Credence looked up in surprise. Percy watched his face grow rather serious and intent and hurriedly kept talking. 

“My temper didn’t used to this bad - or at least I don’t think it did - but there seems a lot to be angry about at the moment. That piece-of-shit car is only the tip of the iceberg.”

He realised he’d started to shred his napkin into little pieces. He dropped it again, and resisted the urge to fold his arms across his chest. It would only make him look sulky. Or threatening.

“I know I’m not showing myself in a very good light here,” he said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take this outside the bakery again.” 

Credence’s watchful gaze continued on for a few moments. Then, without a word, he got up and went to the counter.

Percy stared after him. Could he be leaving? He saw Credence lean over to speak to someone, but couldn’t tell what he said. He seemed to be pointing at something and then waved over towards their table. Was he asking for the check?

But, no - he turned and came back. Relief flooded Percy; relief and more confusion. Credence had two plates of pie, and a server followed him with two mugs. 

He took his seat; silence reigned once more while their unfinished burgers were cleared away.

Once the server had left, Credence pushed a plate and a mug towards Percy. “They’re for you,” he said. He picked up his own fork and took a bite of a pie.

More silence followed. Credence ate slowly and thoughtfully. Percy examined his own plate, wondering if he’d missed something obvious.

“Queenie told me something once,” Credence said, suddenly. “She said even when everything feels like shit - and might actually have gone to shit, who knows? - we can always do something about the moment we’re in. To make it a bit better.”

Even if he’d orchestrated all that to get his full and complete attention, Percy thought, he couldn’t have done a better job.

“Right now, it’s cold outside,” Credence continued, “and we’re somewhere warm, with something good to eat and someone to talk to, and- And even if it doesn’t feel like much, it’s something little to enjoy, while we can.”

Percy was astonished. “Queenie told you that?” he said, hoping he might learn when and why.

“Queenie has a way of just knowing things,” Credence said. “She's real smart but not many people notice.” He stopped and frowned at Percy’s untouched plate. “Try some, it’s good.”

Percy stared at him for a full minute before he too started to eat.

“Are you trying to induct me into the pleasures of comfort eating?” he asked, feeling a little more like his old self.

“Do you feel comforted?” said Credence.

Percy struggled with that for a while before he answered. “Not because of the pie.”

Credence smiled cryptically. “It’s never because of the pie.”

When they eventually pulled up outside Credence’s building again, they were only an hour late. The tow truck had arrived sooner than expected; all the car needed was a jumpstart. By then Percy had been able to bear the ignominy with something closer to humour. Maybe it really was funny, just a little bit.

He killed the engine. They both looked out, to where Percy guessed Credence’s apartment must be. Neither of them moved. A curtain twitched and a face appeared at one of the windows. On the sill below it twinkled an LED menorah.

Credence waved up to the peering face and twisted to get his bag from the back seat.

“I guess I should have wished you a happy Hanukkah,” Percy said, and turned to Credence with a smile.

“Oh,” he said, tucking the empty flask safely into his bag. “Because of Jacob and Queenie? And Tina?” 

“Yeah,” said Percy. “I thought you might be related or something… Who’s Tina?”

“Queenie’s sister. I live with her.” Credence pointed up toward the window. “I think you saw her once in the bakery.”

“Right,” Percy said, thinking hard. “So you’re not Jewish?”

“No,” said Credence. Instead of getting out of the car, he sat back in his seat again. “I don’t really know what I am now,” he said, after a moment.

“Can I ask…?” Percy began. He got the feeling this conversation ran deep. “Why all the hesitation about the decorations?”

Credence shrugged. “My mother didn’t approve of the commercialisation of Christmas - she said it was the dilution of God’s message.”

“Wow,” Percy said. “God’s message, huh?”

“Exactly,” Credence said. “No decorations, no presents... nothing but church. And you don’t even know what she would’ve said about me living with Tina and going on a date with you.”

“Sorry it wasn’t a better one,” Percy said, feeling doubly guilty.

Credence gave him a sidelong glance and smiled. “I thought it was pretty good, actually,” he said, and went a lovely shade of pink.

Percy still thought he’d failed somehow but the assurance was nice. He swung open his door open, and went round get Credence’s. At least he could end their date on a note of gallantry.

That seemed to lead straight to them both hovering on Credence’s doorstep. Credence wore a touchingly open expression; one very earnest and a little lost. His gaze wavered uncertainly across Percy’s face, particularly around his mouth.

Percy resolved to make it up to him, next time. He leaned in to kiss his cheek, making sure to linger longer than necessary; it wouldn’t do for Credence to doubt his interest.

“I thought it was pretty good too,” he said. “Merry Christmas, Credence.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fic post on tumblr - reblogs welcomed!](http://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/post/168832760507/kowalskis-5-moar-holiday-edition)
> 
> Happy holidays everyone!
> 
> <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, hello again! First of all, I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to updating this - some RL things happened (which needed to happen) and since I’ve started writing again, several weeks ago, I’ve been finishing a long multi-chapter gradence fic I’ve been working on since last year. And it’s almost done! So I thought I’d update this while I had the chance :)
> 
> I have one more chapter written and ready to go, which I will post next Friday. After that, I plan to keep coming back to this until it’s done. Updates will still be sporadic, but not as sporadic as this has been. I’d like to get two chapters done a month (this is my fun, self-indulgent bit of writing, in amongst the other stuff I have planned) but I can’t promise that will always be feasible. ([If you want to know why, check out my about page on tumblr.](https://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/about) Or you can ask me about it instead :) ).
> 
> To anyone coming back to read - hi, and thanks for your patience! To anyone new reading - welcome <3
> 
> Finally, thanks to Pangaea for always being ready to talk about this AU (and gradence in general), for having great ideas, and knowing exactly what to say to spark off more of this fic :)

The bakery was closed over the main holiday period - from Christmas Eve, right the way through until New Year. It was the only reliable vacation time Queenie and Jacob could get and, with the rest of the neighbourhood businesses shut down too, no one seemed to mind they couldn’t place a last-minute order for forty cupcakes or demand a non-fat hazelnut cappuccino in a hurry as they were late for a meeting _._ To those who knew it, the city was changed - people went to visit family elsewhere or withdrew into their own small circles. It was quieter, less rushed; New York was on hold.

Credence thought about the kiss all the time. Percy had aimed it squarely at his cheek; his own had brushed the corner of Credence’s mouth, stubble regrown enough from the morning’s shave to scratch. And he’d lingered, just a little, one hand cupping Credence’s shoulder. 

Credence had stood there rather stupidly; he couldn’t remember what he’d said or done straight after. Hopefully he’d managed to smile, or at least look happy about being kissed.

He remembered Percy’s warm brown eyes, though. That was all he could think of, as Percy had said his goodbyes and walked away.

Tina had been waiting for him inside, trying to look like she wasn’t. That had been nice - to have someone to tell everything to, what they’d said and done. Credence did his best but was sure it lost something in the re-telling - it was hard to describe the special quality of sharing doughnuts in the car or Percy’s patience while Credence chose food colourings. He didn’t mention Percy’s unexpected anger over the engine trouble. Or the kiss on the doorstep - it was Queenie who dragged that part out of him.

“And then?” she’d said, the next day, when he’d told her the same as Tina. “Come on, honey, don’t leave anything out.” 

Credence hadn’t known what to say; he’d just flushed and fallen silent.

A delighted grin broke out on Queenie’s face. She clapped her hands together, and said, “Oh, I just _knew_ it!”

Several customers looked up from their phones, newspapers, and conversations. Credence shushed her. “It wasn’t really like that,” he said. “It was just…You know. Nice. Friendly.”

“ _Friendly_ ,” she said, waving her hand scornfully. “I know friendly. That man hasn’t stopped making eyes at you since you first handed him a cup of coffee.”

Credence knew that wasn’t quite true; he’d been painfully invisible to Percy for quite some weeks until he’d plucked up the courage to speak to him.

He reminded Queenie of this, and in turn she reminded himhow hard he’d worked to be invisible.

“You didn’t want to be seen, so you weren’t,” she said. “Now you’ve changed your mind, look what’s happened - he can’t take his eyes off you. Honey, the thing you have to decide now is - what next? How much do you want him to see, and how badly do you want him to?”

Which had indeed given Credence pause for thought. 

He knew their date had been an odd one, and that Percy’s behaviour had been less than perfect. The television had told him dates should be romantic; they usually involved flowers and restaurants, kissing in the backs of taxis, being invited upstairs for something that pretended to be coffee. Tina’s face when he’d described it had told him plenty; she’d looked bemused and worried by turns, hiding it all under a well-meaning smile. 

But Credence couldn’t help feeling it had been just right, somehow. He didn’t think he could even do the other kind of date; having to remember to do and say the right thing, put away the parts of himself that others would find difficult. He was quiet, prone to sudden silences. There were innocent questions about himself he wouldn’t want to answer. The time he’d spent with Percy had been flawed, yes, but it had been real. And easy; he’d been able to be himself.

Percy had come into the bakery one final time before it closed, to tell him his mother expected him to visit for Christmas. “ _Summoned_ ,” he’d said, smiling. “ _Irascible old witch_.” Credence had suddenly wanted to ask about her, about Percy’s family, his childhood, everything. But they only had a few minutes together - the café was crammed and Credence had customers to serve. No time for another kiss, either, but Percy had given him that warm look again, squeezed his shoulder, and promised he would hear from him soon. 

And he’d kept his promise. To have Percy’s number in his phone was still new; Credence had spent quite some time looking at it, wondering if he should put it to use. The only messages they’d shared (a grand total of four) were to arrange the Kraft-Mart trip and no others had followed. But, now that Percy was somewhere upstate, every day brought a new message, often more than one. Sometimes Credence woke to find messages sent late the night before, at two, three, even four in the morning.

> _was made to go antiquing today, never been so bored, but i could see you liking it_

> _mother’s cronies all turned up with cake and gingerbread - literally anything that could be iced. they’re arguing over whose is best so made me judge. your expertise is sorely missed._

> _have you ever been trapped in a room with a dozen merry widows and a bucket of eggnog?_

> _if i don’t make it back alive, remember me fondly_

> _and as the most of handsome man of your acquaintance_

And again, about mid-morning:

> _what i wouldn’t give for a cup of your coffee right now_

Credence spent a good portion of each morning tucked cosily up in bed, trying to decide how to respond. Each little insight was treasured; he tried to match the light-and-breezy tone but knew he fell desperately short. There were things he wanted to say instead - the kind of things Queenie had provoked him to examine - but it never seemed to be the right time.

Christmas Day itself was a strange one. Jacob, Tina and Queenie had asked him repeatedly if he wanted to do something but he honestly didn’t know. It had never been a celebration for him; no presents, no decorations, no family gathering around the table. Only church, twice a day, to pray for the souls of those infected by pagan wickedness. Peace on earth and goodwill to all men was not something his mother had encouraged or even practiced.

In the end, it was decided to spend the day together in a kind of non-religious family celebration. Queenie and Jacob made a special dinner and they spent the afternoon watching movies and the evening playing games. Credence was able to ignore his lingering unease and join in quite convincingly.

Percy was a hot topic of discussion, no matter how much Credence tried to change the subject. It didn’t help that his phone kept buzzing or that, every time it did, his hand twitched involuntarily towards it. Queenie kept biting her lip to hold in her eagerness. Tina merely looked curious, and Jacob oblivious.

“Is that him, honey?” Queenie asked, all innocence. “Is he having a good time?”

“Where did you say his mother lived?” Tina said. “Somewhere upstate, wasn’t it?”

Faced with two fronts of questioning, there wasn’t much Credence could do to avoid replying. “I think so,” he said to Queenie. “And I don’t know,” he said to Tina. “I- I didn’t ask, he just said upstate.”

Tina frowned a little. “What about his job - what does he do for a living?”

Queenie nudged her sharply and tried to cause a distraction by handing out more cookies.

Tina rubbed her side, glaring at Queenie. “I just mean,” she said, turning to Credence, “I don’t really know him. I only saw him that one time and I’ve never spoken to him - I’m trying to figure out what he’s like, not pry.”

“Your version of ‘not prying’ has too much in common with New York City’s finest,” Queenie said. “Let Credence have a little fun.”

“We never really talked about work,” Credence admitted.

What he didn’t add was that he had the sense Percy wanted to discuss it about as much Credence wanted to talk about his scarred wrists. There was an air of disappointment about him, and he knew Tina had correctly scented a mystery. And when Tina did that she was unlikely to let go until it was solved.

Surprisingly, it was Jacob who came to Percy’s defence.

“All I know is he comes in every day to see Credence,” he said. “As much as I’d like to believe it’s for my grandmother’s paczkis, I know when a man is thinking of his belly and when he’s thinking of his heart.” 

Jacob pointedly reached for Queenie’s hand and kissed it; she made a soft happy sound and her smile was radiant. Credence didn’t know anyone who smiled so much, especially not when they meant it as genuinely as she did. It still amazed him that he’d managed to find such uncomplicated happiness, so willingly shared, and exactly when he’d needed it most.

Then, two things happened at once.

Credence’s phone, ignored during the double-pronged interrogation, began to ring silently. The last message, still unread, said: _you able to talk?_

And Tina, with a regretful tone, said, “Yes, but are you quite sure he’s thinking with his-”

“Oh,” Credence said, interrupting her. “It’s him, he’s calling me.” 

Queenie beamed at him. “Well, don’t keep him waiting, sugar.”

Credence slipped quietly out of the room, studiously avoiding everyone’s eyes. He went into the bathroom and shut the door before answering.

“Merry Christmas, gorgeous,” said Percy’s voice. It sounded quite shocking, so close to his ear. “Did you have a nice day?”

Credence sank onto the floor, his back to the wall. He was unsure how to respond to that - ‘hello’ didn’t really seem like enough.

Percy spoke again before he could gather himself. “Sorry, my mother has a lot of very good brandy and I might’ve had a touch too much. If you knew her, though, you’d excuse me entirely.” There was a brief pause, a crackle on the line which might have been a sigh. “I don’t regret calling you gorgeous, though.” 

Out of nowhere, Credence started to laugh, hard. He brought his knees to his chest and hugged them until it subsided. Hearing Percy’s voice again fixed something he hadn’t known was wrong; his laughter came from relief and pleasure and other, more complicated, feelings.

Percy chuckled in his ear. Credence tipped his head back against the wall and looked at the ceiling without seeing it.

“I think I missed you,” he said. It was much easier to say so on the phone; easier than writing it in little letters which would be there every time he looked at Percy’s messages. “No, I know I did. I only just realised it.”

He could hear the smile in Percy’s voice. “Well, that’s good news,” said Percy. “I missed you, too. You would’ve been a welcome presence today - your company’s very peaceful, did you know that? Far too many people here, too many voices and absolutely none I want to hear. Tell me about your day - did you do anything special?”

“Queenie and Jacob cooked,” Credence said. “She insisted, so all of us had dinner. I’m here now, hiding in the bathroom while they pretend not to listen.”

“Ahhh, New York apartments,” Percy said. “How nice it is to live alone. You must have been well fed, then?”

Credence laughed again. “Correct,” he said. “But, I don’t know, it was weird too. I’m not used to any of this.”

“The holiday stuff?” Percy asked. “Or is this a family thing?”

Credence sighed. “Both.” It was hard to explain, even to Percy. He was grateful to his friends but felt guilty for not enjoying it more. Instead, he heard himself say, “I think Tina and Queenie are arguing about you.”

“About me?”

“Yeah,” Credence said. “I mean, you know Queenie, but Tina’s kind of cautious. And she’s been protective of me ever since- Ever since I met her.”

There was a short silence where Credence cursed himself for almost bringing _that_ up and waited fearfully for Percy to probe deeper.

But he didn’t. “I can see her point, actually,” he said. “In her place I might feel the same.”

“I don’t think it’s personal,” Credence said. “I guess she hasn’t met you. Not that I think you should meet her or anything - just, she’s a cop, she thinks a certain way.”

“A cop, eh?” Percy said. “But, seriously, it’s good she’s looking out for you. I’m glad.”

There was another silence. Credence wished very hard he could do light-hearted conversation like a normal person - he hadn’t meant for this to take such a turn. And now they were at a dead-end and he didn’t know how to get them out of it.

He wondered instead if Percy wanted to look out for him, too, or if he’d made himself sound like too much work to bother with.

“I regretted not getting you a gift today,” Percy said, suddenly. “I would’ve enjoyed thinking of you opening it this morning.”

“Oh,” Credence said. “That’s okay, I told everyone I didn’t want any.”

“No presents at all?” Percy said, in mock outrage. “Terrible. Impermissible. Not on my watch.”

Credence laughed at him, and felt some of his worries lift.

“How about this, then?” Percy said. “It turns out I did buy you one, but was too late to send it. So you can have it next time I see you. When does the bakery reopen?”

“On the second,” Credence said. “But no, really, you don’t have to. And I haven’t got anything for you.”

Percy laughed. “I nearly said something about your company being the only gift I need but that’s too cheesy, even for me. But what about all those delicious edibles you keep giving me? I think the scales are tipped too far in your favour - it’s time I evened it up a little.”

“Well,” Credence said, “I guess so?”

“I know so,” Percy said, firmly. “I’ll see you on the second.”

So, that had been that. Percy had asked if he could call again, which simultaneously caused Credence’s stomach to twist into knots and a gigantic smile to spring to his face. He might not be much good at talking on the phone but he wouldn’t have missed the nervous thrill of it for anything.

The rest of his holiday was spent in an easier frame of mind - enjoying it seemed less complicated now Christmas had passed. It helped that the curiosity he faced was rather more patient and, after he’d shared news of the present, a little more satisfied, too.

Opening day at the bakery was very quiet - the last thing anyone wanted was more pastry or hot drinks with extra cream. A few office workers came in for coffee first thing, and Queenie assembled a few salads for them to take back to their desks for lunch. The cold weather kept nearly everyone else away - temperatures had been freezing for the past few days and everyone was expecting snow. So when Percy came in, sometime in the early afternoon, the place was empty.

Credence tried not to smile too eagerly at him but his face wouldn’t obey. But Percy grinned back at him just as widely, so Credence decided it didn’t matter. He carried with him a large paper bag.

“I just got back,” he said, placing it carefully on a stool. “So I hope you’ve got some extra-hot coffee for me - I think the car heater’s bust.”

Credence set to work and tried to sneak glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He did look a little travel-crumpled, particularly underneath his heavy coat and scarf. The creases in his shirt matched the ones around his eyes; maybe he’d had to get up early for the drive back.

“Now,” Percy said, once he’d taken a long pull of coffee and seated himself at the counter. “I promised you something, so here it is.”

He put the bag in front of him and pushed it towards Credence.

Credence smiled helplessly again, and said, “You really didn’t have to, you know.”

“That’s the whole point of a gift, isn’t it?” Percy said. “I know I didn’t have to, I _want_ to.”

Credence looked inside the bag - it contained something large wrapped in tissue paper. It was heavy, too - he hauled it out and set it on the counter before opening the paper.

Opposite him, Percy shifted nervously. “I was more confident when I was full of brandy,” he said. “If you don’t like it, just say. I can get you something else.”

Credence found himself looking at a big copper crown; a Victorian cake mould. 

“I found it while bored out of my skull antiquing. I don’t know if you can use it or if you’d even want to…” Percy stopped, and then said, “Is it stupid? It’s stupid, isn’t it.”

Credence blinked at him and looked at the cake mould again. It was beautiful; perfect. And he thought Percy might be perfect, too. Which answered at least part of Queenie’s question.

“It’s not stupid,” he said, and leaned across the counter.

This time it was him who kissed Percy, and quite deliberately on the mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi I’m pretty much making up details of Credence’s religious upbringing as I go along - it’s not based on any particular Christian sect or group. 
> 
> [Here’s this post on tumblr - reblogs always welcomed!](https://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/post/175855962092/kowalskis-6-gradence-fic)


	7. Chapter 7

“Want to try again?” Percy asked, the day after Credence had kissed him. “I promise no breakdowns this time, of any kind.”

He’d been thinking of asking him on a second date since the end of their first. Over Christmas he’d caused himself plenty of misery running over and over the things he’d done wrong - no matter how much Credence said he’d enjoyed himself, he knew it wasn’t good enough. Somewhere along the line, making it up to Credence had become absolutely essential.

They were at a window table in the café, observing the dearth of passing trade. Percy had been there most of the day, splitting his time between talking to Credence and not reading a book his mother had given him (which came with a long list of recommendations from TED Talk speakers and argued, in excruciating detail, that the key to success was not giving up. Subtlety was not his mother’s forte.) It was so quiet that Jacob could’ve managed on his own but, with the day’s baking over, he’d decided to catch up on paperwork. Queenie had gone out to run some errands and had managed to convey to Percy, without actually saying so, that she expected him to stay and keep Credence company - which had been no hardship at all.

“So, how about it?” Percy asked, wearing his most charming grin. “Can you stand the idea of spending even more time with me?”

Credence smiled in his usual lovely way; he tended to look down, like he was trying to hide from the very thing which made him smile. Percy distantly wondered at how far gone he was; this thing with Credence was long past being a good or bad idea. Now it was something that just _was._

“You must know I want to,” Credence said, with a faint blush and a miniscule frown.

Percy took the mild reproach with good grace, even enjoyment - it was almost flirtatious for Credence. It was difficult to mind anything, just then; the sight of him was too appealing. He was wrapped up in a too-big sweater, scarf a bright knitted blue with a faint pink pattern. The combination of thick woolly layers and cropped hair drew out the exquisite lines of his face, all sharp angles and beautiful mouth. Inevitably, these thoughts led to how much Percy wanted to feel his lips on his own again; Credence’s kiss had bordered on chaste but had hinted at everything else he wanted.

“Is there anywhere you would like to go?” Percy said. There were a few restaurants still in his price-range he could think of, but wasn’t sure what Credence would prefer to eat. “Maybe somewhere you’ve always wanted to go and never been?”

Credence’s eyes brightened. “Actually, there is somewhere,” he said. “Coney Island.”

“Coney Island?” Percy stalled, frowning. “In January?” That was a far cry from the kind of date he’d imagined.

Credence nodded eagerly. He was completely serious, it seemed. 

“Let me guess,” Percy said. “Your mother thought the devil caught the souls of unwary children in the amusement arcades? Therefore it was a forbidden place full of forbidden pleasures?”

“Something like that,” Credence said. “I know it will be cold but it will be quiet, too. I like the ocean.”

Percy tried to picture it; frosty air, only a scattering of other people, the chance to hold hands on the boardwalk (and maybe more?). Sharing a cup of coffee to warm up. Credence’s pink-cheeked smile. It was just the ticket; a much better idea than a restaurant.

“Sold,” he said to Credence. “You’d better wrap up warm, though.”

*

The day was bright and freezing cold. Overnight there had been a light fall of snow, enough to dust the uppermost reaches of the sands and to make the boardwalk slippery underfoot. In places they had to hold onto each other, laughing, until the danger of falling passed.

They talked about nothing in particular, simple comments on the sights around them; how quiet it was, how cold but how light and airy, how good it was to be there after the crowdedness of the city. Even Percy felt its magic at work - he felt different, refreshed, a shake up which came as a welcome surprise.

Credence’s happiness was obvious and there was a lightness to it which was new to Percy. He was far from talkative but managed to say plenty without words. His gaze was pulled constantly outwards, towards where the ocean and sky met. But when it turned inland again, it was always to Percy that it reached first. 

In a miracle of miracles, his car had behaved impeccably and got them there in one piece. The heater had been fixed and managed to stay that way for the whole journey. And this time he was mentally prepared in case it refused to start again - if they had to leave the car and get the subway back, then so be it. He was determined not to let it spoil things.

It helped that he was more sure of himself and of Credence. Their mutual attraction was no longer a debate, they knew each other a little better, and Credence had witnessed his stupid temper and forgiven him for it. It was oddly reassuring, like a fresh page had been turned and between them lay an honesty which felt far from awkward.

Which meant that, so far, their date was going perfectly. The longer they walked, the colder it got, and the closer together they had to draw for warmth. Holding hands now seemed like a natural step but bulky gloves were a serious impediment; Percy solved the problem by hooking Credence’s arm through his instead. He just glimpsed Credence’s little smile, one kept almost secret by the tilt of his head. But he caught his eye, after, and his briefly-bitten lip, and felt very good indeed.

When they came to the pier Credence gazed longingly down it, out to where the pale slate sea surged around its pillars.

“You’re not too cold to go out there?” Percy asked. Credence was less well wrapped up than he’d hoped, in what seemed to be a lot of layers topped off with a generously-sized hoodie. “Why don’t we go warm up inside with a hot dog and do the pier after.”

They found a place open a block away from the shore; the interior left much to be desired but it was warm, there was coffee, and they found a free table tucked into a corner. Percy, observing Credence lick mustard off his thumb, recalled the date his rather rusty imagination had suggested and was glad Credence had taken the initiative. This one was far superior.

“Have you been to Coney Island before?” Credence asked. “I guess you must’ve - everyone New Yorker has, haven’t they?”

“When I was kid,” Percy said. “Not for a long while - it seems to have changed a little and yet not that much at all. What else do you want to do, after the pier? The arcades aren’t open but I’m sure there are other ways the devil can lead you astray.”

“How do you know he hasn’t already?” Credence said, with a smile which drew a pleasurable tingle down Percy’s spine.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Got to you already, did he?” Percy said. “But it must depend on who you ask - to me, it looks like you belong to the other side. Definitely more saint than sinner.”

Credence laughed at him, and took another bite of hotdog. “I thought you were going to say something else, then.”

“Oh, come on,” Percy said. “I’m going to wait until at least our fifth date before I start calling you an angel. Anything earlier than that would just be too much. What do you take me for?”

He leaned across the table; underneath it their knees touched. Credence turned his hand palm-up and slid it closer. Percy lay his own over it; Credence’s fingers curled around his, warm and a little dry.

“Thank you,” Credence said, suddenly shy. “For not being weird about… all the things I have to be weird about.”

Percy squeezed his hand. “Likewise,” he said. “And it’s not an effort, by the way. Your company is something I’m grateful for. I enjoy it very much.”

Credence squeezed back. He nodded, focused on the table, but when he looked up and met Percy’s eyes his gaze was so sincere it hit Percy like a train. 

They went back out, into the cold. Percy felt braver, like he’d been given the permission he’d needed to slide his arm round Credence’s shoulders. Credence leaned imperceptibly closer, the hard line of his ribs pressing against his side. His hoodie was less padded than it looked, even with the layers underneath.

“Sure you’re not too cold for this?” Percy said, as they left the shore behind. The wind sliced like a knife; Credence must be able to feel every cruel lick.

“I’m fine,” Credence said. “And it’s only wind. It’s not going to kill me.”

They were about halfway out now, the pier stretching back to what seemed a completely deserted city. Skeletal structures of rollercoasters rose up from empty amusement parks; even the buildings had an abandoned air. No sounds reached them from the shore; there was only the slap of waves below and the wind around their ears. 

A little further on, Credence slowed, drawn like a magnet to peer over the side. The water was battleship grey, forbidding and enticing in equal measure; the colour of the unknown.

Percy slipped his arm down to curl around Credence’s waist, to pull him closer in to share his warmth. “I’m curious how you survive a New York winter with only a hoodie,” he said. “Or is it just that my bones are twenty years older than yours?”

Credence shrugged. “Coats are expensive,” he said. “And not that necessary if you only have to walk a few blocks to the subway.”

Percy’s frown was instinctive; he wasn’t entirely sure where this protective streak was coming from. But the wind was freezing and Credence looked white, numb with cold. 

“They’re necessary now,” Percy said. “Look, come here.” He turned towards Credence and wrapped his other arm round him in a loose embrace. “Just while we’re out in the cold.”

Credence stiffened in surprise but it didn’t last long. He gave a quiet sigh and melted into it, even briefly laying his cheek against Percy’s shoulder.

When he raised it again, he caught Percy’s eye out of the corner of his own. “Just while we’re out in the cold?” he asked, and unbelievably Percy saw it was a genuine question.

Percy’s answer - _of course not, you can have this whenever you want, did I not make that clear?_ \- didn’t actually materialise. His voice stalled, got left somewhere in his throat, and his thoughts became entirely taken up by the slow blink of Credence’s lashes, the nearness of his soft mouth. Somehow, instead of speech, another thing happened. Credence’s mouth moved a little nearer, his face grew more questioning, and Percy was granted a different way to answer.

Their lips met and this time Percy held nothing back. He put everything into it which would sound trite if spoken aloud - and there seemed to be quite a lot he wanted to say. Credence’s lips were chapped, his breath stuttered, but he soon found his rhythm. His lips parted for Percy, he made a beautiful sound when Percy licked along their crease. His fingers had crept to Percy’s waist, where they gripped his coat hard, and Percy’s found their way to Credence’s jaw, sliding into the shorn hair behind his ears. Their kiss became deeper and slower; Credence wound himself tighter round Percy, arms round his neck, mouth hot and open.

They parted for breath; Credence’s eyes were blown, his lips glossily wet. Percy was left with a thumping rushing pulse, his heart both light and heavy and possibly now a half-inch further to the left.

“I think I meant to say something,” Percy said, “but I’ve forgotten what it was.” 

A smile curved the corner of Credence’s lip; its beauty was nearly heartbreaking.

“Also, I changed my mind,” Percy said. “There’s no way I can wait until the fifth date before I start calling you an angel.”

Credence’s face split into a grin. He pitched back into Percy’s embrace; Percy felt, rather than heard, the amused huff Credence gave against his shoulder. The strange feeling in his heart came back; it jumped painfully in his chest. He rested his cheek against the crown of Credence’s head and briefly shut his eyes. He’d got it real bad, alright. 

As they walked back along the pier, Percy said, “I have roughly a dozen coats I’m not wearing - you could have one, if you wanted. Makes more sense than them being left unused in my wardrobe.”

“I don’t know,” Credence said, with a frown. “Maybe. What if you needed them?”

“They’re nice ones,” Percy said, refusing to give up. “Some of them I haven’t even worn. You could come round to mine and try them on, see what you think?”

Credence glanced at him, then, and Percy knew he’d found the key to persuading him.

“Yes, then you can try them on and choose the one you like. And if there isn’t one you like, no harm no foul.” Percy smiled, kissed Credence’s cheek, and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll cook you dinner, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Percy is *not* reading is _Grit: the Power of Passion and Perseverance_ by Angela Duckworth and tbh I think he’s right to ignore it - tautological nonsense, if you ask me.
> 
> [Here’s this post on tumblr - reblogs always welcomed!](https://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/post/176098975797/kowalskis-7-gradence-fic)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be updating sporadically but do not fear - I have never yet abandoned a fic :)
> 
> Though I have a fairly good grasp on where this is going, I'm open to requests and ideas - just [send me an ask on tumblr](http://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/ask). 
> 
> [Art and original ficlet on tumblr here](http://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/post/166620843417/pangaeastarseed-my-art-for-gradencetrickortreat) \- reblogs most welcome :)
> 
> Find us both here!  
> [pangaeastarseed.tumblr.com](http://pangaeastarseed.tumblr.com/)  
>  ~~[Here I am on tumblr.](http://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com)~~ I’ve left tumblr due to their policy update of December 2018 and now you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/weconqueratdawn), [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/weconqueratdawn) and [dreamwidth](https://weconqueratdawn.dreamwidth.org/).


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